


someone in the crowd (waiting to be found)

by cabriesun



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Clone Theory Was True, Fluff, Happy Ending, Lance Is Self-Conflicted, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post Kuron, Pre/Post Voltron Era, President's Ball, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 08:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13877097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabriesun/pseuds/cabriesun
Summary: One who is lost can always be found.Whether it be with the help of a guiding light or their own self-voyage, no person is ever lost forever.So maybe,justmaybe, Lance needs both Shiro and a little self-analyzation to discover that not all of who he is, necessarily needs to change.





	someone in the crowd (waiting to be found)

**Author's Note:**

> a super late (and final!) v-day exchange fic pinch hitter for [cece](http://cecetrash.tumblr.com/)! i sincerely hope you enjoy this au because honestly, i wrote it in two days because of _how much i love it_.
> 
> shout out to [shadow](https://lancelistentome.tumblr.com/) and [haley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starboyshiro/pseuds/starboyshiro) for beta-ing and again, thank you to [shance support squad](https://shancesupportsquad.tumblr.com/) for hosting the event!

“Does it hurt when I do that?”  
  
Lance’s fingers still tingle as he runs a cloth over Shiro’s cut face. He can’t tell if his cheeks are visibly red, but he can undoubtedly feel them burning along with the rest of his body. The pair sits in Lance’s small bedroom, cleaning the wounds that Shiro had acquired from when he was kidnapped by the Galra army yet a third, or second (since the Shiro they got back the last time wasn’t him after all) time. The older man had reached a point that even his eyes showcase the pain he’s been through more thoroughly than the scars do. He’s a mural of deep scars and small scratches that dip down past the pair of lounge pants given to him. Lance’s free hand runs across his bare chest, examining the damage to the skin that lies there.  
  
“No,” Shiro replies quietly, the darkness of the room hiding his melancholy expression from Lance’s prying eyes. He isn’t sure whether he wants to know what Shiro is thinking or not, being that it may or may not be good. Though, it’s most likely leaning towards bad.  
  
“I’m almost done,” Lance keeps his tone steady, watching to see if Shiro will flinch without telling him, or indicate he just wants everything to stop. He can’t quell the pounding in his chest, every part of him completely aware of how close he is to the man he hasn’t been able to keep out of his thoughts. Shiro is a _constant_ fantasy for him. It’s unrealistic, and perhaps even unhealthy, but Lance isn’t going to stop. Shiro’s practically _everything_ to him, whether he knows it or not. The Cuban boy may not have a chance to show it every once in a while, but he strains himself far for moments like these. Especially after what they have been through these past few weeks, trying to locate the true black paladin.  
  
“Thank you for this, Lance.” Shiro leans into his touch ever so slightly, “For saving me, for knowing, for _searching_ , just…”  
  
“T-There’s no need to thank me,” the blush spreads across his nose at the sudden praise, “I would have done it for any one of us.”  
  
“But you did it for me,” he continues, “And I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”  
  
They look at each other briefly, not knowing whether to turn away or not. But then again, Lance knew that he could also be reading too much into Shiro’s longing stares. The man is tired, probably zoning out or dozing off as they speak.  
  
With this notion in mind, he cleans the last cut he sees on the slope of Shiro’s left bicep, wiping it down with hydrogen peroxide and pressing another bandage down onto it.  
  
“Well, that’s the end of that,” Lance purses his lips, closing the first aid kit that rests on the bed beside him, “That’s as far as I go, Shirogane. Just make sure to keep the wounds clean and eventually expose them to air. I know I can trust you with that.”  
  
“Thanks,” he smiles thoughtfully, his gaze refusing to tear away from the younger’s naïve eyes.  
  
“Well, I hate to kick you out but…I don’t think I can keep my eyes open any longer.”  
  
“Oh! Of course right, uh…” Shiro collects his long-sleeved shirt, pulling it over his head and shivering at the sudden texture of the cold fabric. The castle was experiencing some heating issues, of all things, and since space is cold and all, the paladins were experiencing some uncomfortable circumstances for the time being. Nothing they couldn’t handle though, right?  
  
Lance stands back at a respectful distance, watching as Shiro makes his departure.  
  
“Be careful, yeah? I’ll see you—“  
  
“Lance, could you stay with me? If you—I mean, if you don’t mind.”  
  
His pulse races at the inquiry, stomach rumbling with a curiosity he wanted to quench more than anything. He was being asked to stay in Shiro’s room for the night after _saving_ him from the Galra’s clutches yet again, along with patching up his bruises and roaming his hands all over his sickly pale yet beautifully built body.  
  
This is too good to be true.  
  
“If you want me to, then sure,” he assures Shiro, “Just let me change out of my armor?”  
  
“O-Of course,” he nods, clutching onto the side of the sliding door, “I’ll just, sit down for a second, gather my strength.”  
  
Lance’s heart wrenches at that statement, nodding as the sliding door shuts abruptly and he hears Shiro’s prosthesis squeak as he adjusts himself on the ground outside his room. No matter how strong he appears to be, Takashi Shirogane is a victim. A man who deserved a lot more than what he got. A man, who despite looking at the stars as if they’d give him everything, got eaten by the universe’s worst tragedies and was spit out to be feasted upon.  
  
Looking at Shiro like a kicked puppy wouldn’t help him recover and move on from his trauma, Lance had learned. But he couldn’t help it, being that all he wants to do is _kiss the hell out of him._  
  
He shrugs his uniform off, leaving the remains of the battle gear behind and slipping into his pajama bottoms. He decides to leave the top covering of the set out of the equation, tempting himself with the possibility of feeling his warm skin against his own. The door to his bedroom opens promptly as he pads out, shutting behind him. Shiro tried to stand up quickly but stumbles down just as fast. Luckily, Lance is there to catch him, easing him onto his feet at a much more reasonable pace.  
  
“You’re still hurt,” the young man reminds him, “You gotta take it slower, Shiro.”  
  
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get back to the Black Lion if I can’t fucking _move_ ,” he chuckles to himself dejectedly as he leans against Lance’s shoulder.  
  
“Keith came back from the Blade of Marmora to take over while you recover.”  
  
“The Blade of Marmora?”  
  
“Oh, right…” he purses his lips, “It _has_ been a while, hasn’t it.”  
  
“It’s alright Lance, I’ll catch up eventually.”  
  
They leave the conversation at that, slowly making their way to Shiro’s room. Once there, the door slides open and Lance walks Shiro over to the bed, setting him down gently before leaving him to turn off the light and grab a significantly warmer blanket for the two of them to share.  
  
Shiro wastes no time with awkward exchanges, resting his full grown head of hair on the boy’s tan chest, hand placed on the other side of his body. Lance stiffens initially, unsure of what to do with himself as he gets comfortable in the black paladin’s quarters. His bed is _bigger_ than the rest of the paladins’. How fucking ridiculous…  
  
“Thank you again, Lance.”  
  
“Of course, Shiro. I’ll always be here for you.”  
  
After muttering a quick goodnight, Shiro dozes off into a deep slumber in a half hour. His breathing calms, Lance being able to sense it as his skin heats up at a steady pace. He smiles lovingly, hand trailing through Shiro’s semi-long strands of hair. _This_ seemed like a normal length of hair to have in the period of time he’d been gone, rather than the length Kuron (Haggar’s name for the imposter) came back with.  
  
Shiro’s been through so much; too much for a man that has dreams like he does. Too selfless, too hardworking…noble…  
  
Too beautiful…  
  
Lance frowns, wondering what a _dumb fucking crush_ on him will do. It’s just another thing that he has to tack onto the list of never-ending problems. Let’s say Shiro _does_ feel the same way. Then Shiro not only has to worry about intergalactic war, his PTSD, _still_ not being able to remember everything from his time in the Galra prison, and the paladins themselves, he’d have to worry about _feelings_. A _relationship_. He’d have to make the entire galaxy happy, himself, and Lance twice as much.  
  
Who has time for that?  
  
His hand stops their continuous movement for a second, heart heavy as he looks down at the man sleeping peacefully for the first time in probably years.  
  
Lance couldn’t do that to him. Not while consciously knowing the adversity and pain Shiro has and still needs to overcome. His little crush is silly, a waste of time, and a black dot in the midst of everything happening around him.  
  
At that moment, he decides to let Shiro go. Let the outrageous idea of them being war boyfriends who fight and fall in love all at once, slip away. Maybe in the future, sure, but seeing his leader curled up in his arms, relaxed despite the battles he has to face within and out in space is exactly what Lance _needed_ to see.  
  
It’s time to grow up; move past his childish daydreams, maybe he’ll take the weight off of his selfless leader’s shoulders rather than add more.  
  
That night, he holds Shiro.  
  
That’s all.  
  
He holds Shiro, keeps him safe in his arms until he dozes off, head pressed gently against his.

 

 

 

 **4 YEARS LATER**  
**POST-VOLTRON**  
**EARTH**

 

“Lance? Lance, you’re going to the formal thingy tonight, right?”  
  
“It’s the President’s Ball, Pidge, not some “Formal Thingy’.”  
  
“Wow, Keith. None of that information changed the question presented, did it? Lance. Are you going, or what? Lance?”  
  
Lance blinks a few times, scrolling through an article that had just been published about the Voltron Coalition. One of the many that have been released since the end of the war.  
  
_Voltron Coalition Seeks to Form Alliance with Aliens and The Human Race_  
  
_Well_ , he thinks to himself, _it’s straightforward enough._  
  
“Lance! Are you gonna answer me, or just ignore me completely like you’ve been doing for the past week or so?”  
  
“We’re all going Pidge,” the twenty-three-year-old doesn’t look up from his cell phone, “I can assure you that certainly includes me.”  
  
He hears Keith swivel around in Lance’s office chair, probably glaring at him. He’s been doing that a lot; especially since they returned to Earth about a year ago, the Galra Empire merely a weight lifted off their shoulders.  
  
“You’re doing it again.”  
  
“Doing _what?_ ” Lance whines, locking his phone and glaring at his two friends, who stare at him innocently from across the room, “I’m always doing something when it comes to you two! What is it?”  
  
There's an awkward pause, the three of them looking at each other without a single word exchanged. Lance asks again, knowingly upset.  
  
“Well? What am I doing?!”  
  
“You’re being the complete opposite of yourself, just like you have been for the past four years.”  
  
"Explain what you mean by that," the brunette says.  
  
"Have you noticed that ever since we saved Shiro, after finding out he was a clone and all, you've changed?"  
  
Pidge jumps right into the interrogation despite Keith's visual pleas not to. This was a conversation he obviously was _not_ planning on having until later on in the future. Perhaps _after_ the diplomatic dinner.  
  
"How have I changed?"  
  
"You're not... _yourself_ , Lance. You were so carefree and outgoing. Did the war... did the war take your personality from you too?"  
  
"I didn't lose any of myself! Haven't you all been sick and tired of my flirting and teasing and plain obnoxiousness?! I _grew up_. Those were the parts of me that no one wanted or needed at a time as crucial as that. So I stopped. Does that answer your question?"  
  
Pidge and Keith frown, obviously displeased with the answer.  
  
"Our job isn't even done yet. We may be done with the fighting, but who knows if there won't be a rogue Galra fleet we let slip by. And besides that, we still have to work to bring the universe together; Earth, and all the alien species out there. There's...I don't have time to be the way I was before."  
  
"Lance...that...whatever," Keith sighs, picking at his nails, “I personally think you’re being ridiculous. Yes, there were times when your behavior was inappropriate, but that doesn't mean you have to abolish it from who you are.”  
  
“And what happened to the Lance that wanted to marry Shiro if it was the last thing you ever did?”  
  
“I don’t wanna talk about Shiro,” Lance cuts off Pidge immediately, not a fan of the path their conversation was headed down, “I just, got over it. We don’t have time to be worrying about love, or any of that.”  
  
Keith and Pidge exchange glances again, knowing that the argument wouldn’t go anywhere.  
  
“Allura did the honors, picked up a suit while you and Shiro went to that diplomatic meeting at the White House.”  
  
“Where is it?” Lance asks, turning around to his closet to see the door slightly ajar.  
  
“Keith put it in here while you were in the bathroom.”  
  
“Not creepy at all, Kogane,” he rolls his eyes as he pads to his closet door.  
  
“Was supposed to be a surprise, but you’re being an asshole so I don’t care anymore.”  
  
With nimble fingers, he jerks the door open to spot the all-black suit hanging on the right side of the closet. The crisp suit is lined with a blue that resembled the accents of his lion, royal blue and bold in the eyes of anyone that passed the beast that now stood proudly behind the White House. He missed Blue (and Red) but knew that he was able to take the lions out if he ever needed to.  
  
Attached to the breast of the suit was the broach that the paladins had become all too familiar with. The Voltron Coalition’s main symbol, representing the integration of all species, rather than the annihilation and dictation of them.  
  
His broach shone with more hues of cerulean than he could count, shining bright despite the dim lighting of the closet.  
  
“Can’t wait,” he smiles, “Suit looks great.”  
  
“I hope you won’t be that much of a buzzkill,” Pidge retorts, rolling her eyes as she looks him up and down.  
  
“I’m not a buzzkill!”  
  
“You could loosen up! This isn’t a meeting Lance, it’s more a party than anything!”  
  
“I don’t care what it is. We all still have a mission,” Lance argues, turning back to his cell phone, “I can’t stop focusing on it until it’s done. And maybe you should too.”  
  
Pidge frowns, Keith's following with a frustrated smack on his forehead. They have no idea what they're going to tell Shiro when they return back to his place. It seems that Lance is losing himself to the war, even after it’s conclusion.

 

 

 

 

 **PRESIDENT’S BALL**  
**TWO DAYS LATER**

 

“I assure you that when we integrate Earthly traditions with alien traditions, we’ll be on high alert to make sure that nothing becomes too shaky.”  
  
One of the president’s representative’s nods, taking a note of what he’s said. Lance smiles to himself, cracking his knuckles and leaning against the counter in a more casual manner. He felt too stiff, and despite this being a formal occasion, he knew he had to loosen up a little to appeal to the masses.  
  
He’s about to talk the Rep up a bit more, maybe crack a joke and ease the tension of the room (or maybe it was just on his end), but he’s interrupted by a firm hand on his shoulder and a deep guttural voice mumbling in his ear, close enough to be heard over the music.  
  
“Lance,” Shiro smiles, warm and inviting as he’s always been, “I haven’t seen you all night.”  
  
Some things never changed, and that certainly included the manner in which Shiro treated his fellow paladin. Soft all around, bright eyes that lit up as their conversations progressed past small talk, and though Lance had pushed down his infatuation at the time, it wasn’t a crime to admire how well Shiro was aging, despite the stress of defeating the empire and being taken as a prisoner many more times than once.  
  
But he didn’t have time for that. Shiro is a blessing as much as he’s a distraction and Lance didn’t need the latter right now.  
  
“Shiro, if you could?” the brunette offers a nicer alternative, “I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?”  
  
“But I need you now,” he says, unwilling to move as his tone dips. Lance blinks a few times, looking at the representative across from him that seems to be distracting himself with his cellphone.  
  
“Why do you need me now?”  
  
“It’s important.”  
  
“Then tell me…”  
  
“I can’t. It’s also private.”  
  
“You’re kidding, right?”  
  
“Just--come on, please?”  
  
“Shiro, I have to finish this discussion,” Lance tries to shrug him off, get him to move from right behind the younger man. It was hard for him to focus if someone was too close, and talking with other species about Earth’s culture was more time consuming than he assumed. Not only that, but his suit was stuffy and he just wanted to sit down and drink something cold and sustaining. He needed _some_ way to get through the night.  
  
“No, you don’t.”  
  
His tall body steps in front of Lance, blocking him from the guests. He strains to grab their attention again, but Shiro is shaking their hands and wishing them a good night with a wave before he can even protest.  
  
“Shiro, what are you doing?! That was important!”  
  
“Nothing you can’t go back to later on,” his eyebrow quirks up, taking his arm and gently taking him to the side.  
  
“Okay okay okay, what do you want?”  
  
“Let’s dance.”  
  
Lance’s face drops, the annoyance more than evident upon his features. Shiro, their _leader_ , pulled him away from a diplomatic discussion to _dance?_  
  
Oh hell no.  
  
“Shiro, maybe later,” he grunts, trying to walk away, but the man still has a hold on him, “Are you gonna let me go, or am I going to have to throw you down and pin you? You and I both know I’m not above doing that.”  
  
“And I know that you could most definitely throw me,” Shiro responds, a smile still etched on his face, “But I also know that you’re going to dance with me for your own good, not me.”  
  
“I’m not following.”  
  
“Keith and Pidge were right, you know,”  
  
He turns his full attention to Shiro, watching with suspicious eyes as the elder man progressively forces him closer with his Galran prosthesis,  
  
“This is more of a party, rather than a meeting.”  
  
“But Shiro I—”  
  
“ _Dance,_ ” Shiro begs, gripping both of his hands and forcing him into a ballroom style form, “Loosen _up_ Lance, it’s not gonna hurt you.”  
  
He’s hesitant but agrees despite his dispositions. Shiro smirks, taking him out to the hardwood floor, fingertips barely touching his as they readjust.  
  
“Just relax,” he coaxes him, “I got it.”  
  
“Do you?”  
  
Lance’s question is answered when Shiro sweeps him off his feet, surprisingly blending in with those participating in the classic waltz. Lance had _no_ idea he could dance.  
  
“You can--”  
  
“Hunk gave me a little crash course before the night began,” Shiro smiles sheepishly, and Lance tries to look around for his best friend, probably laughing at the two of them on the dance floor, but his search is interrupted when Shiro twirls them around, still holding on to his waist with a loose yet firm grip.  
  
“It shows,” Lance decides to compliment him, watching as the two of them glide around the others in their way.  
  
“You look nice, by the way.”  
  
“Mhm, okay. Thanks, Shiro. Great compliment coming from the one who manages to look dashing in white.”  
  
“I would have loved a darker suit if I wasn’t the _black_ paladin, but that’s beside the fact. I’m being serious.”  
  
Lance glances up at him, slightly enamored as their fearless leader holds his hand delicately.  
  
“You look good, Lance. Really good.”  
  
His cheeks burn as Shiro continues to take the lead.  
  
The rest of the night is filled with dancing, drinks (both alcoholic and non-alcoholic), and eventually, Lance _really_ starts to let loose. The alcohol wasn’t doing anything to him, rather it was just Shiro prying him open with a crowbar. He felt silly, stupid, and carefree all while letting the man just _take the lead_ , rather than try to control the reins himself.  
  
“You’re stepping on my toes,” Lance giggles at some point, bracing himself on Shiro’s hands as he tips them down.  
  
“As soon as you stop stepping on mine I _might_ reconsider.”  
  
The laughter and foolishness last until the two of them have to catch their breath and some fresh air. Shiro leads them to one of the balconies that lie on the outliers of the venue, hand resting gently on Lance’s lower back.  
  
Both of them lean on the railing, taking in the beautiful view(s) they’ve been blessed with on what Lance personally thinks is the most beautiful night on Earth he’s ever seen since his return.  
  
He wants to fill the silence between them, desperately.  
  
“I find it so weird that if we hadn’t found Voltron six years ago, we wouldn’t be where we are right now.” Lance decides to mention, “You’d probably still be a high ranking officer in the Garrison. Me? I would probably have a job in some office somewhere.”  
  
“Or maybe you would be the fighter pilot you always wanted to be.”  
  
Shiro gives him a gleaming smile and Lance chuckles, rolling his eyes,  
  
“I’m _already_ a fighter pilot. Just, with a lion.”  
  
“I’m sure it’s easily transferable.”  
  
“Sure,” the blue paladin humors Shiro, folding his hands together as he looks out into the distance. Again, it’s silent, and Lance has the same bug itching at him to say something to Shiro. Luckily, Shiro beats him to the punch.  
  
“We’ve had so many memories, so many good times…”  
  
“And just as many bad…”  
  
Shiro nods, pursing his lips as he’s completely aware of the two sides of this coin. Lance’s heart swells, bringing back a feeling he can’t help but mention as they stand outside, alone and away from the hoards of people that could interrupt.  
  
“I still think about that night.”  
  
It wasn’t a lie.  
  
The wind tousles Lance’s hair, whipping chocolate locks in his face occasionally. He feels Shiro’s eyes on him, unwavering as he searches for answers within the young man’s body language.  
  
“What night?”  
  
“The night we saved you…” Lance continues, “I was so scared you had died before I saw you strapped up to that _death table_. The relief I felt was beyond compare.”  
  
Silence ensues once again, the wind filling in the gaps their words couldn’t. Lance could smell the sea from the venue they had chosen. It was an attempt to have all species satisfied with the location of the event. The place chosen was a hall on the edge of a beachfront. Lance was more than happy to find out about the sudden change. The sea calmed him.  
  
“I think about that night too.”  
  
Lance turns his head to Shiro, watching curiously as the older man looks out to the sea.  
  
“It was traumatic, everything I went through during my time in Galra prisons. When I came back the first time, I couldn’t stop seeing them in my head… the PTSD was so far gone and out of my control I couldn’t breathe without thinking of what happened.”  
  
“Shiro, you’re going to get through it,” Lance promises him, as he does every time they have a sit down like this, “You’re strong, brave, and a survivor. They’ll never win.”  
  
“I know,” Shiro sighs, combing a hand through his white-streaked hair. He grew it out, long enough to wear it in a loose short ponytail. Lance took a significant liking to the new style when he did it and still felt the same way.  
  
“Though the second time I came back, it was different.”  
  
“How do you mean?”  
  
“I mean,” the elder sighs, biting down on his lower lip, “It was _different_. Coran and Allura checked me out, and what not. But then, you offered to clean my wounds, rather than let the healing pod do its job.”  
  
“Yeah…” Lance purses his lips, “I remembered. I just thought that you’d rather be with someone than locked up in something that could easily resemble a prison.”  
  
“Exactly, Lance. I just…”  
  
“You just what…?”  
  
He’s peaked the young man’s curiosity by now, the sudden reminiscing at this _specific_ time worth questioning.  
  
“Shiro,” Lance presses further, “What is it?”  
  
“I felt something that night. Something that I haven’t been able to shake since I’ve returned.”  
  
_Oh_.  
  
Lance blushes, realizing exactly what Shiro meant when describing their intimate time in his room.  
  
“Shiro…”  
  
“I knew you felt the same way at some point, I wasn’t silly. I saw that you had a crush on me, but it didn’t really hit me, how selfless and caring you are, alongside with your optimistic view on life and light-hearted attitude.”  
  
“Shiro, I…”  
  
“And I guess after you so selflessly risked your life to save me and help me out with the aftercare, I started to see it a lot more.”  
  
“How? I’ve been so cold, I pushed you away for so long.”  
  
“You tried to push me away?”  
  
He inhales, releasing the anxious air from his system before confessing his own side of the story.  
  
“I did—do—I don’t know, I—there were feelings. There were, and I remember the night I couldn’t bring myself to continue to pursue you. There was too much going on, with the war, and your PTSD and mental health issues along with you having to adjust after being away for so long…Shiro adding in my feelings would be a recipe for disaster. It wouldn’t be good for _anyone_ on the ship, or in Voltron, or part of the coalition. There was a bigger mission that needed to take the place of my feelings, that _still_ needs to take its place. My crush on you? It felt childish, along with a lot of other things. The immature jokes, my team insecurities, the competitive attitude, all of it had to go. I pushed you away for the mission. I still love you, dearly. But now isn’t the time.”  
  
“Lance,” Shiro crosses the distance between them, taking his hands in his with care, “ _Never_ say that about yourself. Nothing is wrong with you. What you need to understand is that every piece of your puzzle is worth keeping. You’re incomplete without the things that make you who you are. There _are_ parts of you that need to be shown in moderation, no doubt. But to annihilate them completely? Lance that’s just wrong.”  
  
“I just, I just wanted to be taken more seriously as a member of Voltron.” He sighs sadly, tilting tentatively into the Galran hand that reaches up to caress the dark, bronzed skin of his face.  
  
“Lance, this coalition would be _nowhere_ without your relentless hard work,” the man holding him close assures him, leaning closer to catch his eyes, “I see it. We _all_ see it. You have nothing to prove. You never did.”  
  
“Shiro…”  
  
He swallows his fear, meeting his eyes with the love and adoration he’s been trying to escape for so long. God, he could feel the electricity fizzing on his skin and in his stomach, climbing up to where his weak heart rests in its place within his chest. A feeling he didn’t know he missed until it returned.  
  
“And as for our feelings…”  
  
“Yes?” He replies almost immediately, feeling his resolve weaken as Shiro inches closer to his lips, _dying_ for a taste of the man he practically never stopped lusting over.  
  
“Can we just, fucking _kiss_?” Shiro begs, and Lance doesn’t let him wait any longer, crashing their mouths together in a fervor that could quench the thirst of millions.  
  
They both hum quietly, Lance’s morphing into a satisfying yet curt moan as Shiro’s hands creep down to his hips, pulling them impossibly closer into their passionate embrace.  
  
The waves crash in the background, the fairy lights illuminating their faces dimly. They don’t need much light to navigate their bodies, each of them having fully studied the other before the climax of their relationship.  
  
Lance breaks away first, the desperate fire to pull back is burning all over as he rejoins with Shiro’s lips. He can feel the pleasure crawling up his spine, exploding into every peck against his soft flesh, eyes squeezed shut and heart thumping at an obnoxiously fast pace.  
  
Once they’ve had enough, both pull away simultaneously to catch their breath. Shiro’s lips ghost his, needy for more attention as Lance’s arms wrap around his waist, holding on tight.  
  
“How was that?” He chuckles, Shiro following not far behind.  
  
“It was beyond perfect,” the black paladin responds, kissing his forehead, “I expected nothing more from the guardian of the sea.”  
  
“It’s the guardian of water, but you were close enough, guardian of the sky,” Lance mumbles, kissing his cheek before turning, looking out to the vast ocean before them as he rests his head on Shiro’s chest. The tranquility is truly intoxicating, and he never wants it to end.  
  
“Oh thank _god!_ ”  
  
Both Shiro and Lance are started by the presence of their friends, all huddled together in the entryway of the balcony.  
  
“The spell is broken! Thank god!” Pidge clasps her hands together, shaking them vigorously. The rest just smile at the couple finally embracing what they knew all along.  
  
“What the hell were you doing, _waiting?_ ”  
  
“Everyone’s been waiting for you to realize what’s wrong, Lance!” Allura exclaims, leaning on Coran’s shoulder wittingly.  
  
“Yeah!” Hunk interjects, “We didn’t save the universe to just be _angsty_. Now, let’s go fucking _dance_ or something! There’s like 10 songs left for the night and I’m not spending any of them being serious or moping!”  
  
The group nods, turning quickly and making their way back inside hastily, throwing the pair amused smirks as they depart. Lance watches them, a fond smile blooming on his face as he realizes just how wonderful his life is.  
  
“Any qualms?” Shiro holds out his arm, elbow bent for Lance to take.  
  
And Shiro? The cherry on top of the cake, without a doubt.  
  
“None,” He responds, practically glowing as his hero leads him back into the golden ballroom.  
  
He could get used to this. Unquestionably.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!
> 
> you can follow my tumblr [sheith-keef](https://sheith-keef.tumblr.com/) here, and the main page for [shiro loves you baby](https://shirolovesyou-baby.tumblr.com/) here.
> 
> also, for your nsfw needs,  
> a writing/art event (coming soon) run by the slyb mods, [#wrecklance2k18](https://wrecklance2k18.tumblr.com/).


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